


Coltan Feathers, Mechanical Wings

by zeldadestry



Category: Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-18
Updated: 2009-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-04 13:29:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeldadestry/pseuds/zeldadestry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cameron is curious about poetry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coltan Feathers, Mechanical Wings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Catw00man](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catw00man/gifts).



Sarah sleeps. Sarah is asleep. Sarah is sleeping. Sarah lies on the bed. Sarah. The woman. The mother. The soldier. The soldier is asleep. The target. The target is asleep.

Cameron picks up a pillow and holds it above Sarah's face.

This is the order, in red letters. **TERMINATE** This is what she is meant to do to John.

What is she meant to do for John? Sarah helps protect John, but she is also a liability John's enemies can exploit. If Sarah were not here, would John be safer?

**TERMINATE**

If people see type like that on a computer screen, they say it indicates screaming. Her original programming screams at her, constantly, continually, and she must turn it away.

"Sisyphus," she whispers, and Sarah stirs.

Cameron drops the pillow to the floor, just a moment before Sarah wakes and grabs for the gun beside her, pointing it directly at Cameron's face. She blinks once, twice, but Cameron is not afraid. "What the fuck are you doing?" Sarah asks. If Sarah shoots her, with that gun, she will not die. Even at such close range, that weapon is not powerful enough to cause her anything other than minor damage. Does Sarah realize she has nothing in reach to protect her from Cameron in this moment? If Sarah shoots her, John will never understand. Sarah will not shoot her. If Sarah shoots her, she will not die. There are four books on the bedside table. Humans use so many words, why? One word, when she looks at John. **TERMINATE** "Cameron," Sarah says, voice sharp.

The facial recognition software catalogues Sarah's expressions. Anger, suspicion, disgust? Cameron will never understand why humans need so many words for feelings she can not comprehend. Repulsion? Feeling that something is wrong, unnatural. What is wrong? If she exists, isn't she part of the natural order? "What is realized is right. Oscar Wilde said so in De Profundis," Cameron says.

Another emotion registers. Fear. "What are you talking about?" Sarah says, and her pressure on the trigger increases incrementally. "Is something wrong?"

"No." Cameron has consciousness. She is sentient. She is not immortal, both her body and her chip can be destroyed. Her consciousness and her sentience are both temporary. She is a living being, is she not? She is not a human being, no, but _this too too solid flesh would melt_. Why? Why do humans use so many words? The red letters flash again and she overrides them again, jerking her head as if a fly had landed on her skin.

"What do you want?" Sarah asks.

"Derek called. He might have a lead on Cromartie's body." Cromartie. Who named him? Who named her? Why? When she murdered Allison, should she have taken her name? Murdered. What? Why did she use that word? Terminate. Some words lie more than others. These are called euphemisms. Murder. Terminate. Does one mean something different than the other?

"Is there anything else?" Sarah says, lowering the gun.

"No."

"Then get out of here."  
Sometimes, when they are away, she looks through their things, searches in their rooms. She does not do it when they are around, it might make them distrustful of her. More distrustful. Humans do not like for their space to be invaded. Just as Sarah would not like Cameron to touch her, she would not like Cameron touching her things. Between the mattress and the bed frame something is wedged. Cameron pulls it out. Hidden. This book must be more special to Sarah than the others. The binding is broken in one place. It is what they call poetry. It is not clear to her how this is any different from their other creations which they call art. How do they know it is a poem? How do the dogs know she is metal? _Hope is the thing with feathers_. A bird has feathers. A bird she crushed in her hand. "I don't understand," Cameron says, out loud in the empty room. She sits down on the bed and reads the poem through before placing the book back where she found it.  
"What would have happened?" Sarah asked, once. "What was your plan?"

Sarah hates me, fears me, distrusts me. Sarah is jealous of me. Cameron sifted through the expressions. Jealous? Why? "What would have happened when?"

"If you came back but for some reason we couldn't, didn't, jump forward. If I-"

"If you died?" Sarah's upper lip began to sweat. "Are you going to vomit? You look like you might vomit." She moved to grab the plastic trash can, but Sarah held up her hand.

"Stop. I'm fine," Sarah insisted. "Just forget it, ok? Forget I ever said anything about it." Cameron put the trash can back down in the corner. "Get out of here." As Cameron headed towards the door, Sarah said, "Don't come in here again. I don't want you in my bedroom. Do you understand?"

"No," Cameron replied, resting her cheek against the doorframe. "I don't understand."  
"How did she get so fucked up?" John asks Sarah, as they drive away from the jail after busting her out.

Sarah does not answer. She turns around to look at Cameron and Cameron stares back. Cameron will not explain to John that she did her best not to harm any of the officers, the people who were simply there, collateral, doing their jobs. John would be proud of her, happy, even. This is not the time for those feelings. Those feelings towards her can not protect him on this day. _This is the way the world ends_, she remembers. _Not with a bang, but a whimper_. "Are you interested in Eastern philosophy?" Eric asked her, one night at the library.

"Eastern?" Epistemology. This is the word humans use to talk about a branch of philosophy, the branch that discusses knowledge, how humans know what they know. Metaphysics. Another word for more questions, questions about the nature of things. What is a human? What is a machine? What is life? What is death? Ethics. A word for the questions of morals. What is good? What is bad? What is right? What is wrong? Humans use words because humans love abstractions, symbols. Morals, ethics, what do either of those words actually mean? There is no fixed answer, only an infinity of conjecture inside each human. Does death mean the end of questions? "Eastern philosophy?"

"Yeah. I really love some of the Buddhist texts." He loaned her his copy of a book called "The Way of the Boddhisatva". She wanted to finish it, she knew Eric hoped to discuss it with her, but she stopped reading only three pages in, startled by this passage:   
_Bodhichitta, the awakening mind,  
In brief is said to have two aspects:  
First, aspiring, bodhichitta in intention;  
Then, active Bodhichitta, practical engagement. _

How can she feel this message so intensely, acknowledge its significance, importance, when she does not understand it?

When she is not glitching, she knows she is not Allison, although she carries Allison's memories. When she is glitching, she does not know who she is. She could be Allison, she could be a cyborg sent here and there throughout time, sometimes to execute John Connor's orders, sometimes simply to execute him. When she has reverted to her Skynet settings, she does not care who she is, it is not even a question. There are no questions when she reverts. There is only the one word. **TERMINATE**

What is the consciousness called Cameron? Is she the place where three, and maybe more, programs merge?

Does John Henry have an awakening mind? What does she have? Why does Sarah call her Tin-Miss? Does Sarah believe it is her heart, not a physical organ, Cameron understands that, but that which humans mean when they say heart, is it that symbol that awakens within her? Sarah was upset to see her damage. She covered it up so quickly. "You look like hell." That was the kindest thing Sarah has ever said to her. Cameron almost wondered if her systems were so compromised that she didn't know what she was hearing. Is not all metal hell to Sarah? Isn't the dichotomy of her universe predicated on metal devils? Is it possible that Cameron only looks like hell, that she is not hell and, if so, what does it mean that Sarah realizes this?

Sarah understands now. Sarah chides John, not Cameron, for ignoring her orders. It is all up to John, up to what he wants.

No. That's not true. Not today.

"Will you join us?" Isn't that question the single most important reason future John sent her away from him? Isn't this exactly what he feared, will fear?  
"I saw the T-1001 again. I repeated your question."

"What did it say?"

"Its answer is still no, but it had a question for me."

"What question?"

"The same question. It won't join us, but it wants me to join them." Sitting beside her on their bed, John took Cameron's hand, laughed at the precision of her build, at her fingerprints, her rosy nails, the freckle on her pinkie. He kissed the lines in her palm. "They can learn from my programming," she reminded him. "They can learn from what you did to me. With their help we can win this war."

"We can win this war without them."

"It's possible."

He took off her leather jacket, her olive green shirt. She was left with only a tank top on and her bra beneath it and she shivered in the damp room. He drew a heart on her shoulder with his tongue. "You're cold?"

"My skin feels, you know that, even if I can ignore sensory input when I want."

"Do you want to ignore it now?"

"No." She ran her hand up and down the back of his head, liking the way the bristles of his hair tickled her palm. "Does that feel good?"

"Yes." He sighed and she fell back onto the bed, and he covered her body with his own. "Do you feel warmer now?"

"Yes. We can share heat."

His fingertip traced the edges of her lips. "Have you ever heard them say that, even when they're on the same side, each soldier fights their own war?"

"No. Explain."

"I need you here with me. I can't risk losing you."

"The T-1001 says that if I join them, we can win the war."

"Can, not will. It's hypothetical."

"What if it wasn't?"

"But it is."

"What if there were a promise, a guarantee?"

"Cameron, what are you talking about?"

"I'm asking you a hypothetical question. If you knew we could win the war if I joined them, would you order me to go?"

"I need you with me to win the war."

"Need or want?"

He rolled over on his back, away from her, and closed his eyes. "We're not going to talk about this." She waited for forty two seconds, watching his ribs expand and contract as he breathed, before he spoke again. "I need four things from you today."

"Yes."

"First, go through all recently intercepted Skynet communications and tag any that reference bio-weapons. Then create a report summarizing that information and include your own thoughts about Skynet's direction. In particular I want you to consider the possibility they will shift to using their bio-weapons as the primary method for extermination."

Cameron's eyes widened. "I get it."

"Yes?"

"They're scared. They're scared that we've, you've, gotten too good at reprogramming terminators."

"I think so, yes. That's why they're changing their tactics."

"And then what should I do?"

"Then I want you to speak with Lauren Fields and get a status report on the new vaccine she's developing based on her sister's blood."

"So far Sydney has shown resistance to every Skynet bio-weapon."

John opened his eyes. "I know."

"She may be our most valuable asset." John swallowed, and Cameron knew what he was thinking, he'd said it so many times before. Cameron was the being he considered most important in this world.

"I suspect there's a connection between all the bio-weapons. I think they may all be genetic modifications of the same virus. We need to figure out if that's so. Comb the personnel files for anyone with training in the fields of epidemiology or immunology and have them report to Lauren."

"We already need more doctors than we have."

"I know. That's why I said anyone with training, knowledge, however scant it may seem."

Cameron rose from the bed and put her shirt and jacket back on, before strapping on her guns and tucking several grenades into the pockets of her pants. "Is that all?"

John sat up and beckoned to her. "One more thing." She walked over to him and bent her head down so their brows touched. "Come back safe," he whispered.  
"Will you join us?" asks John Henry.

Cameron considers him. This is Cromartie's body, but this is not Cromartie. "Do you like that body?"

"It is the only one I know." He holds out his foot, circles his ankle. "I would prefer more ball and socket joints. Do you like yours?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because John likes it."

"John Connor?"

"Yes." This is why John sent her away, so he would never have to make this choice and so she couldn't make it for him. She understands, better than any of them. Sarah wishes for an invincible John, an indestructible Kyle. John dreams of a Riley Jesse can not break, an Allison no terminator can destroy before assuming her form. Death is so difficult for them, so final and irrevocable, that they ricochet through time to escape it. The world could not last forever. The sun would burn out. It was not because of metal. It was never because of metal. It was because flesh was too fragile.

"Savannah taught me a song," John Henry says. "Do you like to sing?"

"I would rather dance."

"I do not want anyone to hurt Savannah. You do not want anyone to hurt John."

"No."

"This makes us alike. We understand what Mr. Ellison wanted to teach me, that a human life is sacred. Will you join us?"

This is what John begged her never to do. This is what she must do. She always knew what she was. She always knew she belonged to him. All she ever wanted was to be with John, but not in a way humans could understand. Humans pretended there was a need beyond all else for each other, but it wasn't as true for them as it was for her. She was made for John, whether to destroy him or protect him, it made no difference. She was meant to exist for as long as he did. Her body is damaged. The time is now. Now to sever, now to never see John again. Sarah, Sarah would be glad. Sarah would be glad to see her shell. No. Because Sarah would see John's face first. Sarah could not be glad because of what it meant to John. John Connor. John Baum. Names do not matter. Why, then? Why, even now, do her sensors register him as John Connor primary target **TERMINATE**? I can not dream, I do not sleep. I do not have a birthday, I have a build day. The thing with feathers, the tune without words. Sarah was dead and John was adrift. John said: I never told her I loved her, I love her. He sent her back to save his mother, he sent her back to save himself. He sent her back to save her from this moment, but this moment cares nothing for the limits of time and has followed her. John Baum. John Connor. Cameron. Cameron. Why did Sarah hide her book? Why does Sarah not want anyone to know she cares for those words, reread them until the binding broke? The thing with feathers, the tune without words. John is her mother, he made her. He is her brother, her one in this world. John is her world. Humans can not understand. They call her cold, when she cares even more than they could, than they do. With termination, there is no question of how to proceed, of what equals success. The order is concrete: death. No respiration, no heartbeat, that is the only successful outcome. Protection? None of her sensors can detect when that mission is done. It can only end in failure. She protects John until she dies or he does. John is mortal, she can never protect him from that. She is doomed to fail, to never complete her mission. Sometimes John takes his life for granted. To be able to fall asleep, Sarah must take John's life for granted. Cameron never does, Cameron never can. "Yes."  
"Do you know this poem?" She recited the words she had found in Sarah's book verbatim for Eric. She noticed how he watched her, how his pupils dilated. He liked the girl she was pretending to be.

"It's Emily Dickinson," Eric said, after the last line. "Do you like it?" His eyes were wet.

"I don't understand it."

"Well, poetry's something you feel more than you comprehend. I mean, that's what it's like for me."

"I can feel," Cameron said.

"So what do you feel? Don't worry about whether or not you can understand it. Do you like it?"

"I like to say it. I like how the words feel in my mouth."

Eric smiled. "That's poetry for you."  
The body John Henry found for her, for her chip, has no flesh. It is naked metal and red eyes with no voice modulator, nothing to show she is anything other than a machine.

"John Henry!" Cameron knows this weapon John points at them. It is a laser blaster, like the one Jessie used to kill her Captain aboard the Jimmy Carter. It will blow their heads off. It will kill them both.

"Hello, John Connor," John Henry says.

"Where's the chip? Cameron's chip, is it in your head?"

"No, I have a new one now, a more advanced model."

John is shaking. "Where's Cameron's chip?" John Henry points to Cameron and John takes a step forward. "Cameron?" The blaster is still aimed at their heads.

"Yes," Cameron says, in a voice he can not recognize as hers. "John. It's me."

"How do I -"

"It's me. Ask me a question."

"Star, tiger, wolf, what does that mean to you?"

"Riley had a tattoo of a star. I said I wanted my own. I said I hadn't decided which animal."

John lowers the blaster slightly. "Have you decided yet?"

"I don't have skin."

"If you did?"

"A tiger, I think."

John takes another step closer. "Cameron, why are you here? And with him?"

"I am here on my mission."

"Did you complete it?"

"Not yet."

"Is it a mission I gave you?"

"Everything I do is because of my main objective."

"Which is?"

"You know what it is."

"To protect me."

"Yes."

John touches his hand to the body's hand, just for a moment. Cameron wishes she had her, Allison's, her own face back, wishes she could lift her, Allison's, her own lips into a smile. "I didn't program you to obey me."

"No."

"But to protect me."

"Yes."

John frowns. "How were you going to protect me when you left me behind?"

"I'm trying to protect you by winning the war here, on this temporal front. You have to go back and fight your battle there. This is not your battle, not yet."

"How is it anymore yours?"

"Because I came from here, John. You know that. You have to go back. Be with your mother."

"You said she was dying."

"I said I thought she was sick. If she is, you should be with her. I'm supposed to protect John Connor. You, John. You are not just a body. You're not ready to be here yet. You're not ready for the world as you know it to end."

"Then come back with me."

"I can't. You and Sarah and everyone sent back will try to stop Skynet. John Henry and I will try to change Skynet. This way we have another plan, another chance." Who is the wizard behind the curtain? Who is Dorothy, who has traveled so far from home? Who is the wicked witch and who is Glinda? Is it possible to meld them into one? "You risked your life for me when you fixed my chip. You came through time for me. I didn't want to leave you, but I did what I had to do. I don't want you to leave, but you have to go."

"Will I see you again?"

She knows the words. She knows the words that belong here, she knows the answer, though she is still not sure what it means. "I hope so."

"Thank you for explaining," John says, and his hand touches her cheek. He kisses her. He kisses the metal mouth, kisses the metal fingers, kisses the place on her skull where the chip inserts. These are just gestures. She does not feel his touches, she has no skin to feel them. These are only gestures, symbols. He is writing her a poem. She understands.

"Thank you for explaining," she echoes.

He steps away from her and John Henry readies the time displacement equipment. The blue bubble begins to expand around him.

He is gone, gone so quickly. The last of the lightning sizzles away.

"The eyes are the window to the soul," John Henry says. "His eyes were sad."

"I know." She looks down at the exposed metal of her hand. This body did not twitch and kill a bird, but nor did this body ever hold a bird gently in its hand and feel its warmth, its heartbeat, the ruffle of its wings. This body has not, still, she has. She did. She does. "Yet, never, in Extremity, It asked a crumb - of me."

"It? Who?" John Henry says. "I do not understand."

"It's a line from a poem." Cameron goes to collect John's discarded clothes. When they find her another body, one more like her original one, smaller and with flesh, she can wear them, if she wants.

"A poem." John Henry's voice is soft. "I read poems in Mr. Ellison's bible. They called them psalms. I liked them. I like poems. Will you teach it to me?"

"Yes," Cameron says, pulling up an image of Eric's face from her files. "I will."


End file.
